


Thinking Of Me

by Hp_fan_extreme



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-01
Updated: 2018-04-01
Packaged: 2019-04-16 19:03:12
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,370
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14171472
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hp_fan_extreme/pseuds/Hp_fan_extreme
Summary: Dean wants Seamus, and Seamus is thinking of Dean.





	Thinking Of Me

God, the things Dean wanted to do to Seamus. It was filthy, and he knew it. Especially seeing as Seamus was merely a bed away. Even that is too far, Dean thought, before chiding himself and turning on to his side, away from the walking, smoking disaster which occupied his thoughts.  
________________________________________  
Why, if Dean only knew what Seamus was thinking - even he'd blush at the Irish boy's vivid imagination. Seamus could feel his hardness, praying the darkness covered the obvious tent that it created under the sheets. He heard Dean shuffle, risking a quick glance at the lithe figure. Making any sort of move now would be risky - the other three boys may not be asleep yet.  
He waited a little longer, until Ron and Neville's soft snores filled the air. Harry's breathing became heavier, and Seamus was satisfied that if anything happened, only Dean could possibly be awake to hear it. Was that really an issue? Of course not.  
Seamus snuck a hand down towards his growing bulge as he thought about Dean's lithe and almost willowy figure. That little smirk which graced his lips whenever he looked at Seamus, the artistic hands that Seamus would let do anything they wanted to him. He stifled his moan as he imagined those smirking lips making their way around his body, his hand gently working on releasing the tension.   
Another shuffle came from Dean's bed, shaking Seamus out of his imagination. Trying to formulate some sort of swift plan, Seamus pushed off the covers, still relying on the darkness to hide his hardness, and headed towards the bathroom. Dean's eyes followed discreetly, until he finally risked a whisper.  
"Where are you going?" he said, his voice hushed.   
"Toilet," Seamus replied, his voice husky from trying to withhold his lust. "Not sneaking out," he joked, and slipped away.  
________________________________________  
Dean tried to fall asleep, but could scarcely close his eyes. Seamus' silhouette had not been as hidden as the Irish boy had thought. The click of the door of the bathroom was followed by a heavy silence - no lock, no water running. Dean wondered whether he should risk it. It may leave a friendship completely burned out, or it may ignite a flame which both of them need.  
Fuck it, he thought, carefully slipping out of bed and heading towards the faint light outlining the bathroom door. He pressed his ear to the wood, and his ears were blessed with sounds he'd only heard in his dreams.  
Seamus' quiet moans, obviously trying to be hidden but unable to do so, floated towards him. Dean quietly twisted the handle and pushed the door open, and, dear lord, he saw the art he had been trying to make his whole life.  
Seamus stood, sweaty and hot, one hand grasping at the sink, the other around his cock, jerking furiously. His face was a mixture of pure ecstasy and concentration, his brows furrowed. He bit his lip, trying to hide the moans escaping him as he thought about all the filthy things he could only dream of when it came to the artistic hands of Dean Thomas.   
Dean shut the door, and he suddenly stopped, realising there was someone in there with him. His eyes flew open and pleasure turned to shock as he tried to hide what he was doing, knowing it was a futile attempt.  
Dean locked the door and moved towards Seamus.  
"What were you thinking of?" he whispered. The other boy began to relax.  
"I-I can't say," he stammered.  
Dean paused, before asking the million-dollar question. "Was it me?" he said, finally so close to Seamus he could smell the sweat and sex on the boy.  
A nod was all it took.  
And then they were aggressively kissing each other like there was no tomorrow. Dean's hands tangled themselves into Seamus' mess of hair, tugging backwards to lift his lips to his own. Teeth and lips clashed, but no one care for grace. No, they were on fire and this was the fuel they needed. Dean found himself overpowered by Seamus, despite being the taller one. He was pressed up against the door, his nightshirt hanging off his shoulders, with Seamus in his arms.  
They broke apart, gasping, trying not to wake the others in the room.  
“Turn around,” Seamus growled, and Dean complied, more than happy to do whatever he was asked. His shirt pooled to the ground, along with Seamus’ shirt and previously discarded trousers. Hungry lips attacked his back, sucking and licking and biting the dark skin. Dean groaned as Seamus sucked on his neck, as he mumbled “mine, mine, mine” into his skin.   
Seconds later, Dean was back with his back against the door, and his trousers around his ankles.   
“No boxers?” Seamus teased.  
“Are you complaining?” Dean groaned, one hand on his own cock, the other in Seamus’ hair.   
Seamus smirked and took Dean into his mouth, as the taller of the two had to mentally force himself not to come from that sensation alone. This surely couldn’t be the first time Seamus had done his, he thought, as the Irish boy worked his way up and down the shaft, swirling his tongue over Dean’s sensitive head, licking the pre-cum as it dribbled out. Dean bit his lip, trying to get out something about coming, when suddenly the heat of Seamus’ sinful mouth withdrew. He stood up as Dean grunted.  
“Fuck’s sake, Seamus – just finish it will you?”  
“Uh-uh. Not right now, I need to see you as worked up as I get about you.”  
Seamus was hard again, seeing as Dean had interrupted him before, and began to jerk off again. Dean could only stare at him, at the slightly over-dramatised moans which escaped Seamus’ lips. Soon, the Irish boy was working on both their cocks at once, never quite fast enough to get them off, but tantalising slow, until they were practically throbbing from the need to come.  
“Go to the sink, and bend over,” he whispered in Dean’s ear, sending chills down his spine. He did as he was told, and listened, slightly fearful of the inevitable.   
Seamus grabbed Dean’s ass, feeling the cheeks before lightly slapping them, and then seeking out Dean’s hole. He probed softly, the muscles tight and not allowing him in.  
“Relax...it makes it a lot easier, trust me.”  
He felt Dean start to open up under his touch, before taking his index finger and putting it in Dean’s mouth.  
“Suck.”  
Dean closed his eyes, sucking until the finger was lubed up enough to push into his hole with a slight wince and short grunt. Seamus began working him open, enough so he could slip his cock into Dean without massive amounts of pain. Each moan which he elicited from Dean’s mouth made him harder, and his cock’s head was red from arousal.  
When he finally pushed in, Seamus could have passed out from the pleasure of Dean’s tightness, and the almost girly sound that came out of the tall, usually put together boy bend over in front of him. They moved together, Dean pushing back and Seamus pushing forwards until he was buried to the balls.   
He pulled out and moved slowly back in, until Dean was moving faster of his own accord, when Seamus increased his pace. Soon, he was driving in and out with such force Dean could already tell that he wouldn’t be able to sit for days. Seamus was on the brink now, but forced himself to hold back from the edge – he had to make sure Dean was there, too. Slowing down, he felt for Dean’s shaft. Satisfied that he was still rock hard, Seamus drove deep into Dean and came with a deep groan, emptying himself inside. Dean could feel the hot cum filling him, as he bit his tongue to avoid crying out in pleasure. He started coming himself – thick ropes of white over his belly and the floor.  
Seamus pulled out, panting hard, as Dean tried not to buckle. He stood, leaning on the sink, and then Seamus for support, and kissed him hard, more controlled than before, but equally passionate.  
“I’m glad you were thinking of me.”


End file.
